


The Librarian: Retrieval of the Holy Sword Durandal

by Nonsensewords85



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Waverly has a destiny, Wayhaught endgame, Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonsensewords85/pseuds/Nonsensewords85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waverly Earp has a destiny but it's not the one she always wanted. But after years of being stuck in the same rut she just needed a little push from Wynonna to find it. And perhaps a helping hand from a certain redhead from her past. </p><p>____________</p><p>Or what happens when I watch a reruns of the the Librarian Movies while reading Wayhaught Fanfiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Librarians T.V. series never happened (I'm a fan but it doesn't work well with the ideas I had). Story takes place in medias res and several years after season 1 of Wynonna Earp. It's a combination with the Librarian Movies, but you don't need to have watched them to understand (basically just imagine an even campier Indiana Jones).

Chapter 1: The Librarian

 

Waverly wasn’t entirely sure how she’d managed to find herself in this situation. She did know who was to blame though. It was all Wynonna’s fault. She’d have been happy to still be at the homestead, wrapped in a warm fluffy robe and clicking her way through another online degree. But no, her stupid sister had insisted it wasn’t healthy to spend the amount of time she spent studying or to earn the number of degrees she’d managed to earn without having to leave purgatory. It wasn’t her fault that the world was a stupid place or that studying kept her mind off of… everything else. Sure, it wasn’t exactly common to have more than thirty degrees from online courses, but she liked learning. Learning was good. She knew more ancient languages than even the linguists at Black Badge. She’d also managed to become an expert in physics and the mating calls of hundreds of different animals. How many other people could do that? Not many. Well probably not. Though she had a feeling that all of the others who could were in line waiting for her to fail.

 

And sadly, despite Wynonna’s assurances that “she’d be fine, it’s just an interview at a library, how hard could it be”, it seemed all of those nameless people would get their chance. She may know more about most things than anyone else she’d ever met, but none of that though was particularly helpful in solving the challenge before her. The older woman across from her, face puckered as if she’d eaten one too many sour candies, and completely immune to all of Waverly’s charm, which just wasn’t fair, continued to glare at her and all Waverly could do was look helplessly around the huge room, with its stupid vaulted ceiling, lone antique wooden desk- which had seen better days- and a scowling middle aged woman with an honest to goodness bowl cut and fairly thick glasses.

 

“What makes you think you could be the Librarian?” the woman asked again.

 

Waverly knew that the answer should be that she was organized; knew the Dewey Decimal System backwards, forwards and sideways; had several degrees in the managing of libraries, research, antique books, and other highly relevant things, and could research better than anyone else alive. But it wasn’t. She’d tried that already. Charlene had just looked at her with those puckered lips and said “So can everyone else out there. They’re librarians. Now what makes you think you could be the Librarian.”

 

And that was when Waverly had heard it, the capital L. She hated that capital L. Apparently that capital L meant that the right answer wasn’t right. Stupid Wynonna. Stupid white envelope with its stupid fancy writing telling her “You have been selected to interview for a prestigious position with the Metropolitan Public Library.” Stupid Gus and her “You can’t keep hiding here forever, you’re meant for better things,” speech. What better things could she be meant for when she couldn’t pass a stupid job interview?

 

Panic grips her thoughts, as the question continues to hang in the air. She doesn’t know what to say, what to do. She’s going to fail, she’s not going to get the job and she’s going to have to go back to purgatory and she should be happy because that’s what she wanted all along, to go on with her life as it was, learning new things in her fluffy robe and never having to think about… things being different and it would be safe and familiar and comfortable and so she shouldn’t be afraid. But she is afraid. So afraid. Like’s she’s missing out on something amazing, that something she wants, needs is just beyond her reach and if only she could stretch out just a little further she could have it. And it would be amazing.

 

She hasn’t felt this way since… She doesn’t even think the name. She can’t, it still hurts too much, even as the years have slipped on by. But the mere thought energizes her. She recognizes this feeling. This particular type of fear. And there’s only one thing to do about it. She stares the old woman in the eyes, draws her self up and squares her shoulders. She is Waverly Earp and she can do this. She ignores that niggling voice that reminds her that she’s not actually an Earp. But given that she doesn’t know anymore than that and she can’t really pull off the first name with no last name thing, cause she’s not a rock star, it’s good enough. She stares straight ahead and her mouth flings open, words blasting forth.

 

“I’m Waverly Earp, and I’m keeper of the bones. Not that the means that much anymore cause, there was only one bone that I was keeping, not like that! It was a demon’s skull. And I was sorta married to it, and then I smashed it to keep it from his mother who was a witch trying to murder my friends. And I’ve researched 77 criminals who became demons when Wyatt Earp killed them and if I can do all that you bet I can handle your Dewey Decimal System and books and whatever else you have in this place.”

 

She paused, drawing in deep breaths to replace what she’d lost. The woman kept looking at her, the only change to her expression a slight raise in one of her eyebrows.

 

“Miss,” the woman peers down at a sheet before her “Earp. Tell me something that you know that no one else who has walked in here can tell me.”

 

Waverly’s face grew pale. How was she supposed to answer that? And before she could stop herself she was babbling. “Well how can I do that. I don’t know what they can tell you. I could tell you that I’ve never been skydiving, or that you have two kitties: a Whitenlamb and a Tortiseshell I’d guess based on the cat hair on your right shoulder; or that the thing that everyone thinks is a pentagram is actually a pentacle, which is ironic because it’s a symbol of protection and not actually a bad thing, the bad one has the star pointing down; I could tell you how many syllables are in the Song of Solomon, or how many eggs the average north American Salmon lays each year, oh! Or that your desk was made in 1872 and has only been in this room for ten years and you spilled a cup of tea on it two interviews ago- earl grey by the smell of it- but maybe someone out there could too so I can’t really answer that.”

 

When her voice subsided she was met only with that same damn stare. She was really starting to hate it. Maybe she should go and get a bag and stick it over… Her thoughts feel silent as the woman moved.

 

The woman reached over to an old rotary phone laying on the desk beside her. She listened intently into the receiver and then placed it back down. She gave Waverly an apprising stare.

 

“What’s more important than knowledge,” a man’s voice asked. Waverly’s eyes spun around the room, looking desperately for the source of the voice. She couldn’t see anyone. Oh there had better not be an invisible person in the room. She was in the middle of an interview and couldn’t deal with any weird shit until later. As her mind spun thinking about the origin of the voice, her mouth did the prudent thing and answered the question.

 

“Love.”

 

When the word reached her ears her train of thought crashed. It was a disaster, no survivors. All that passed through her mind was:

     A flash of read hair, long and flowing in the wind.

     A smile that caused her heart to thump every time she saw it.

     A soft strong sultry voice that made her drip with anticipation.

     Her.

 

Tears slipped free and the lies she’d been whispering to herself for years started to unravel. And then Charlene was reaching for the phone again and Waverly felt even worse.

 

“The interviews are over, tell everyone to go home.”

 

Waverly wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the nice dress Gus had picked up just for this interview, oh she was going to be so disappointed. With her eyes still red and slightly leaky, Waverly went to walk to the door. She got as fair as raising one foot off the floor before Charlene spoke.

 

“Not you Miss Earp. You stay.” Waverly put her foot back down and stared straight ahead, eyes wide. “There will be a Sixth Month Trial Period. If you are even 1 minute late I will dock your pay. Do we understand each other?” At Waverly’s wide eyed nod Charlene huffed and went back to her papers. Waverly stared forward wondering what she was supposed to do next.

 

“Welcome to the library Waverly,” she spun around as she heard the man’s voice again. This time the source was present, a small older man, bald and clad in an old suit. Only, she hadn’t heard the door behind her open, and she was pretty sure there wasn’t any other way into the room behind her. There was just the old floor length mirror in the alcove.

 

“How did you…”

 

“This way please.” And with that he started walking past the desk, and Charlene, towards the far end of the room. Waverly followed, her mouth still trying to form words as she struggled to keep up. He moved deceptively fast for an old man. “You are about to learn perhaps the best kept secret our Country has.”

 

“Um, I think we may have different definitions of a secret because, I googled Metropolitan Library to get here.”

 

“What I’m about to show you only a few other people in the world have seen,” he continued, pushing through the doors at the end of the room. Beyond lay the large ballroom lay shelves and shelves of books. Waverly’s breath caught in her throat and she forgot to follow for a moment. Her eyes flitted from shelf to shelf taking in the sheer beauty of it. And this would only be a part of their collection.

 

“Waverly… over here please,” his soft voice gently pulled her from her amazement and she realized she probably wasn’t making the best impression. She walked as quickly as she could till she was by his side, and that’s when she noticed the two armed guards… in full military fatigues. She was all for protecting rare books, but that seemed a bit extreme. As did the rather intimidating assault rifles they had slung over their shoulders.

 

When she reached them, the older man looked at her and said “If we shadows have offended, Think but this and all is mended.”

 

“Ooh, I know that one it’s from Midsummer’s Night’s Dream!” she exclaimed, before remembering she had an audience. She wasn’t blushing, professionals did not blush. Even if random military security guards in a library were smirking at them.

 

When she looked up, she found the older man just staring at her. His head nodded slightly towards the bookshelf that the two guards were standing on either side of. Oh, did he want her to take the book? Maybe it was a librarian test and she had to figure out the book from something in it, like when she wanted to get that movie but she could only remember that one scene and not the title so she asked the clerk at the video store.

 

She looked through the shelf and quickly found the book. Smiling, she grabbed it, expecting to pull it free of the shelf. Instead the book tipped forward, and the bookcase slide up into the ceiling. “Whoa.”

 

Beyond the space where the bookcase used to rest was a short corridor that ended at a set of metal doors. To the side of the doors were two guards, each holding an uzi. As she walked closer, the guards swung into action. As one they turned and then reached down and pulled out a strange looking key. In perfect synch they each reached forward and pushed their key into a small hole. The two guards didn’t even look at each other but managed to turn the keys together and only then did the steel doors part to reveal an elevator beyond.

 

“Umm, why do we do the thing they do for nuclear codes to get into the library?”

 

Jensen turned and smiled at her kindly. “Where do you think the army got it from,” he said before walking forward through the door.

 

“After you.”

 

Waverly stepped through and walked over to the elevator doors. She remained silent as they entered the elevator and he pressed the only button. The elevator went down. Much farther down than should have been possible given they were on the ground floor. Anxiety fluttered through her. Great her first job since leaving purgatory and it was already weird what with the suddenly appearing from nowhere boss and armed guards and elevators descending so long that they had to be getting near the center of the damn planet. What had Wynonna gotten her involved in?

 

That question got more important when the elevator finally came to a halt, doors sliding away to reveal two more guards. When they saw the old man standing next to her they saluted and then turned in perfect synch to face yet another door. Only this door looked more like something you’d see in the pentagon, or at that Black Badge facility they’d had to rescue Dolls from all those years ago, then anything that should be in a library.

 

As she tried to figure out what books could be so important that they merited several feet of hardened steel protecting them,

 

Waverly followed him, a frown on her face. This was getting weird, even for her. That thought, and all others left her head as she finally saw her new workspace. In front of her lay seemingly endless rows of gorgeously crafted bookshelves. Though bookshelf was a misnomer, because even from here she could see that they contained more than mere books. At one of the closer ones there was something that looked like a ram’s horn. And in the distance she could just make out a hammer. But the craziest thing was what waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, in an otherwise clear space was two large displays. There first was a short rectangular marble pillar with an ancient box laying on it. She was pretty sure she knew what is was from the dimensions. She’d have guessed it was just a replica but even from this distance she could tell the gold was far too old to be anything like that. The little display plaque under it read only: “Ark of the Covenant”. And she didn’t even need a plaque to guess what the other display was, given that it consisted of a large rock and a sword sticking out of it at an awkward angle.

 

Beside her Jensen was smiling, his eyes taking in everything before them. “Welcome to the Library Waverly,” he said.

 

She had a thousand questions. At least one of them was, was all this real? But she couldn’t find the words to ask them. Everything fled her, as she stared into a room full of what was, even by her standards, the impossible. And when she finally found herself able to speak, the words that came out of her mouth were only:

“Where is that music coming from?”

 

At which point a set of pipes flew past her and there were just no words.


	2. Chapter 2: The Guardian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A timing note. Like the Librarian movies I'm being pretty vague in regards to the length of Waverly's time in the library. This Chapter happens at least a few days after Chapter 1 but can be as long or short as you desire.

Chapter 2: The Guardian

 

Nicole wasn’t living the life she had expected. She had thought she’d be married by now. Perhaps living a quiet life as sheriff in a small sleepy town, maybe being just another badge in a big city. But she’d be married and she’d have adopted and there would be laughter filling her house as she hugged her wife at the end of each day. Once she thought Waverly Earp would be the woman of her dreams.

 

Instead, as she returned home for the first night in weeks, she crossed the threshold to a silent apartment, every muscle aching. There was no one to greet her, no laughter to fill her home. The only thing she was married to was her work, and her sole companion was a stray cat that had chosen to invade her place. She hadn’t had a pet in years, not since Catlamity Jane had passed. Not since Purgatory.

 

She hadn’t named the stray and he wasn’t there to greet her as she came in. He was probably out wherever he went when he wasn’t invading her space. It didn’t bother her. Not really. She hadn’t had the heart to kick the stray tabby out once it had snuck its way in, but he wasn’t really hers either. He came and went as he pleased. She left the window ajar for him and filed the water and food bowls when she was home. Which wasn’t often. She couldn’t really take care of a pet these days.

 

A dull pounding wound its way through the empty one-bedroom, pulling her from her thoughts. She considered ignoring it. Not like she ever interacted with the neighbors anyway. Her feet ignored her though and turned towards the door. She may be tired and just back from a hellish op at work that left her partner injured and her questioning why she ever joined in the first place, but she was still a small town girl at heart. A knock had to be answered.

 

The knock hadn’t stopped in the time it took her to walk past the still packed duffle containing the clothes from the op that were still fit to be worn, those without bullet holes or caustic stains that ate through the cloth. She’d have to try and go shopping before the next set of orders came down. She was running out of things to wear.

 

The knocking still hadn’t ceased, causing a sliver of temper to push through the fog of exhausted numbness that had encased her after seeing Elle wheeled away on a stretcher. She pressed the button on the intercom next to her door, a little image coming into focus. A necessary safety precaution. Her boss had drilled into her how unsafe looking through a peephole was and given the work she did it would be foolish to just unlock her door.

 

The little camera rigged into the frame of her door did its job, showing a tired face with small scratches and pimples interspersed across its surface. Short graying hair rested on top of it, too short to be a proper cut, but too long to be regulation for any armed forces she knew of. She sighed in frustration and turned the knob to the door. It swung open as his fist came down to knock again. Her eyes bore into him and all of the exhaustion she felt seeped into her tone.

 

“Couldn’t the debrief wait till morning?” She said, and then thinking better of it added a bland “Sir.”

 

His look matched her tone, communicating he’d rather be anywhere else than her door having this conversation. She gave an exasperated sigh, shrugged her shoulders and turned away, heading back into the quiet of her apartment. He followed, letting the door slam shut behind him.

 

She pulled out one of the plastic chairs at the dining table shoved into a corner by her small kitchen. It was one of her few pieces of furniture. His eyes slid over the walls, their bareness seemingly accentuated by the white paint coating them. He took in the frayed couch she’d saved from the street and the small TV she kept on a wire stand in front of it. He grunted as he pulled out the chair across and sat heavily in it.

“Damned if your place ain’t depressing as shit Haught. Couldn’t bother to throw a few pictures around, at least pretend you really live here?”

 

Her eyebrows raised and her patience wore thinner. “You came here to give me decorating tips?”

 

“Hell no. But this is sad Haught. Even I’ve got a few photos up, remind me of the family and why we do this shit.” He said, a pensive expression working its way onto his face. It looked alien there. She’d never seen him like this, unsure, bordering on caring. He was about getting the job done and making sure they came home. She liked that about him, as it meant she could keep her ghosts close.

 

“You have pictures of family up?” she said unable to keep surprise out of her voice, causing it to pitch higher for a second. She was going too far. She shouldn’t be lecturing him on security protocols. Even if he was lax with his chain of command he was still her boss. And for whatever reason he’d come here, it wasn’t good. Something may have gone wrong with Elle, or maybe she was lucky and it was just an inquiry into the number of rounds she’d fired into the suspect who’d done that to her partner. Either way she knew she shouldn’t be antagonizing him now.

 

Instead he snorted, his short grey hair waving with the action. “Shit no. Just some pictures my sister took on one of her vacations. Some pieces of driftwood, a sailboat, some rocks and other shit like that. Look, whatever, I didn’t come to discuss this shit. I came to talk about-”

 

She couldn’t wait any longer, the cold fog had been burned away and worry had replaced it. Before she could stop herself she’d cut him off, demanding to know “Is Elle-” before he cut her off with a look and a wave.

 

“Elle’s as you left her. Dislocated shoulder, a clean break above the wrist, and a cracked rib or two. She’s a tough bitch. She’ll pull through fine.”

 

A little bit of the raw panic receded but the cold numbness returned. At least Elle was alright, at least all that would happen is she would lose her job. Though it was the only thing she had left.

 

“So this is about the report then?” She said numbly, her eyes meeting his. She had a feeling this would happen. It wasn’t the first time one of their ops had gone south. Counter-terrorism was rarely clean. Though she couldn’t remember a time that had been as messy as this. A time when her old life in purgatory had infringed on the new life she’d carved out for herself here. And it was going to cost her everything.

 

“You mean the report where you said due to a gun malfunction you emptied an entire extended clip into a suspect? No I’m not here about that work of fiction.” His thumb and index finger idly met again and again. Without thinking she reached up to the counter where she kept a pen and pad near her phone. She tossed him the pen and he immediately began playing with it.

 

“Sir if the review-”, she started, only to be cut off again. His eyes bore into her. She forgot how effective he was at silencing her. He was so often distracted, only a part of his attention on any one item in a room, that it was unnerving when he turned his full focus on her. She could feel her chest constrict under the intensity.

 

“Give me some credit Haught. This thing is never seeing a review board, and even if it did they’d just chalk it up to an agent putting down the drugged up piece of shit terrorist that she caught trying to beat her partner to death. You’d get few days of mandatory psych counseling at the most. No one would want to ruin a promising agent’s career because she took it out of the hide of the asswipe who tried to kill her partner. But we both know that’s not what happened.”

 

“Sir-“

 

“Stop Haught. I don’t need you to lie to me to my damn face. We both know you’re too good to flip out and more importantly, you’ve been trained better than wasting a whole clip on that son of a bitch when you had a downed partner to protect. We also both know that medical science says a human can’t be shot that many times dead center and still be a threat drugs or no drugs. So we’re gonna let the lie stand about an overzealous agent and the drugged up terrorist. Understand?”

 

“Yes sir.” Some of the numbness started to slip away. Elle was going to be okay. That alone was a miracle. When the suspect had struck her partner with enough force to send Elle flying into the metal shipping containers she’d feared the worst. When he’d gripped Elle’s wrist and pulled, with his foot resting against her shoulder Nicole had known it was bad. So bad that she forced her self up to her knees and scrambled desperately for her partner’s gun which had slid from Elle’s hand’s during the brutal attack. Her own gun had been crushed in the suspect’s bare hands, something she hadn’t thought possible outside of Purgatory. Tension had filled her as she pushed out a shaky breath and grabbed the gun, the thick cushioning of her Kevlar jacket the only reason the jab the monster had landed on her hadn’t caved in her chest. She’d squeezed the trigger again and again, knowing not to stop even after the fifth round had landed. When the chamber clicked empty and he was still standing she’d thought they were dead. Instead he’d slowly fallen to one knee as finally his body registered the damage she had done. She’d forced her self to stand, to pull the magazine out of her destroyed weapon and shot him again and again until he stopped moving entirely. Most of it had never made it into her report. She had learned her lessons in Purgatory well.

 

She’d figured the lies would mean the end of her career. Even though she couldn’t tell the truth, that would mean an institution as well as the end of her career, the lie was too obvious. It would start an inquiry, she’d be terminated and the rest would be pushed under the rug. She didn’t expect to have it all pushed aside, to have the report buried and no inquiry started. And with those two pieces of news started to burn away the lingering dread. But with the cold dread that had enveloped her since Elle had been carted away and she’d been sent home to rest, after being poked and prodded by the field medic, fading confusion started to worm its way in.

 

“But why are you here then sir,” she said, her features softening for the first time since she’d pulled open the door.

 

“Look Haught this ain’t easy to say. You’re one of the best I’ve ever had. Smart as a G Dammed whip and good instincts to boot. You keep your calm under the hairiest shit I’ve seen in recent years. Look you know we recruit from all the tops, we pull in SWAT, CIA, FBI and all the other letters to make the best damned team in DHS. That’s what I do. And yet, if you told me my best agent was gonna be some rookie deputy from a shit stain on a map in the middle of no-where USA I would have told you to take a flying leap. But it’s true.” He paused for a breath and her face grew slack. He was rambling. Honest to goodness rambling. She’d never seen it, never even heard of it, even from the old timers or the alumni, those who had been injured too severely to keep working the unit or moved on to other assignments. The boss didn’t ramble, he didn’t reminisce. He kept it honest, acknowledged the attrition the unit had and tried to get them home safely. He was a rock. But not tonight. Somehow that made her more nervous.

 

“Are you firing me sir?”

 

“You wish. You’re not getting off that easy Haught. No, as of right now you’re being transferred. Got a top level op that needs a seasoned hand and that’s you. Protection detail, high value asset, no support. High chance you’ll need to write a report like the one from today when all’s said and done. Get me?”

 

She nods slowly. She isn’t sure what to make of it. She enjoys the unit, the work they do. But she wouldn’t be the first to leave to go off on some top secret side project. Still, she finally had a rhythm, a place she felt comfortable. She wasn’t sure she could just give it up. Then she’d truly be alone.

 

“I get a say in this?”

 

He huffs a broken laugh at her. It’s more of a short bark. “Not in the least. Sin of being too good at your job Haught. Now you get tasked with bigger and better. Speaking of you’ll need this.” He pulls a card from his pocket and with a flick of his wrist it lands on the table in front of her. “Your new badge.”

 

She picked it up from the table, her features growing more tense as she took it in. A strange symbol was in the corner, right above her picture. Next to the symbol were the words Metropolitan Library. If this was a joke she wasn’t getting it. “You’ve got to be kidding me” she muttered as she looked away from the ID to demand answers. But her boss, no her former boss, wasn’t there anymore. Instead he was by her door.

 

“All the information for your first assignment’s in that envelope,” he said, nodding towards a white envelope sitting on the wooden table. She didn’t see him pull it from anywhere but pulled it to herself anyway. Once she began tearing into the damn thing he stepped through the door, paused and turned around. “Also if Judson’s still there give the old bastard my best.” And with that he turned around, started humming and walked through her door.

 

Nicole wasn’t paying attention though. Her gaze was transfixed on the information in the envelope. It wasn’t easy to focus on past the incessant humming that seemed to fill her ears. She only picked up bits and pieces: some cult with an absurd name, ancient relic that needed to be collected, a librarian. She was about to demand to know what he was humming when she reached the picture. A familiar face stared at her leaving her with only a single thought. Which escaped her lips to her now empty apartment.

 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

 

  


	3. Start of a New Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're almost to the start of the adventure. It's starting a little slower than I initially intended, but I hope it's been enjoyable so far. In this Chapter librarian and guardian will meet and we'll get a little peak into what happened between Waverly and Nicole years ago.

Chapter 3: Start of a New Adventure

 

 

“Alright boy, you know what to do.” Waverly smiled as she watched Excalibur go to work. The floating sword moved with speed and precision, its movements becoming a blur. When the silver blade stopped flashing through the air all that was left was a finely diced pile of carrots and celery. Smiling Waverly held out her plate. Currently it only had a single curved piece of Iceberg Lettuce, but she’d trained Excalibur well and he quickly scooped the pile of vegetables onto the flat of his blade and deposited them neatly onto the celery. Bobbing her head along in time to the tune Pan’s Pipes were currently practicing, Waverly rolled the lettuce tightly around the vegetables. Once the wrap was done she placed it with the others they had made that morning. Now that she had enough it was time. With a smile she picked up the plate and then she and the two flying instruments made their way from the small kitchen to the stables, where Arion was waiting for his snack.

 

As the horse munched happily on his food Waverly tuned out his mumblings of how he would make an honest mare out of her, seriously he was as bad as some of her old bar patrons, and reflected on how far she’d come in such a short time. When she’d first started a talking horse would have made her brain implode. She would have also wondered how they could keep a horse in the Library, but she’d quickly learned that this place was ridiculously, maybe even impossibly, big. They certainly had enough room for a horse to run around. Now, neither the talking horse nor the utterly impossible dimensions of this place phased her.

 

At first, after she’d gotten over her shock and then glee at this wonderful place, she’d been scared out of her mind. She’d never had any jobs except being a waitress at a small town bar, if you didn’t count the part-time work she’d done for a secret division of the U.S. Government hunting down supernatural criminals, which she didn’t cause one she was never paid and two, as Dolls liked to remind her, she never listened to him anyway and she was sure she’d listened if she actually worked for him.

 

She wasn’t qualified to run a place as big, awesome and complicated as the Library. There were so many things to remember and do. She’d wanted to make a list to help her remember, but that would have been a security breach. Instead she was just expected to remember that touching the Ark of the Covenant would light her up like the giant tree in Rockefeller Center. Oh and that Poseidon’s Trident had to stay away from water and water references, she’d learned that last one the hard way and had drenched the shroud of Turin, one exhibit over by, declaring she was not a wet blanket, on a phone call with Wynonna too close to the Trident. Or that Pan’s Pipes only knew that one damned tune that they always played. Okay yeah it was upbeat and if she was gonna pick a theme song for a movie or something, it’d be a good choice, but it got old really quick.

 

She’d desperately wanted to talk to Wynonna about all of it. But Judson had been very clear. No one else was to know about the secrets of the library. And he wasn’t the scariest part of that warning. She’d discovered that Excalibur was not actually stuck in the stone he generally rested in when he’d flown to her throat to make sure she understood Judson’s point. That had not been a good start to that relationship.

 

But it had gotten easier. She’d developed a routine and that had helped a lot. She’d gotten to know a good portion of the exhibits and even befriend a few of them. Like Excalibur. He was like the puppy she was never allowed to have as a child.

 

He followed her around as she went through the day’s chores, taking care of each of the exhibits. He loved helping her prepare any snacks or treats she had to make for some of the living exhibits, like Arion. He also liked to fence, but she was horrible at it. Give her a shotgun over a sword any day.

 

Her other companion swooped by, happily practicing his new song. After Waverly realized that Piper, the nickname she’d given to Pan’s Pipes cause that was a mouthful and sorta demeaning, only played the same song all day long, it wasn’t too much of a leap to realize he didn’t know any others. So to spare herself, and because it had to be boring to play the same thing endlessly Piper, from the endless repetition Waverly had come up with a plan. Because she couldn’t imagine there were many sets of sheet music set for reed pipes, she designed her own. She bought the full sheet music for several songs and using them, came up with sheets for Piper to learn. And Gus and Wynonna had scoffed at her for getting a degree in Music Theory.

 

She wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to read the sheets, but soon enough Piper was playing new songs. He’d mastered two and was on his third. He was currently learning to play Sixpence None the Richer’s Kiss Me, which Waverly had always loved. She hadn’t had the heart to listen to it in years. It had too strong of a link to Her, to memories best forgotten. Of nights spent snuggled on the couch, laughing at cheesy lines and resting peacefully against a chest humming along to the song.

 

She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen this song. But it was a good thing, she was sure of that. Being able to listen to it again meant she was finally getting over Her and moving on. Probably had for ages and just needed a change of scenery to realize it. Maybe Wynonna had been right about applying for the job.

 

As if the mere thought of her sister being correct was tempting the universe to prove her wrong, she heard footsteps and a gentle clearing of a throat behind her. Turning to look she found Judson standing in the doorway. The old man’s eyes locked with hers, which wasn’t difficult given that they were about the same height, and he spoke in that halting manner of his. “Waverly, come with me.”

 

She quickly fell into step beside him. They walked through the Library slowly, passing many exhibits she knew and a few she hadn’t yet discovered.

 

“Is something wrong?” she squeaked out, well aware her probation period hadn’t ended yet. If she lost this job now she’d never forgive herself.

 

“We’ve gotten intelligence that someone is trying to find the sword of Wayland the Smith.”

 

Waverly’s brow crinkled. She had of course heard the legends of Wayland. Several old texts had him as the man who had forged several of the most famous magical swords. But no one had ever proved he’d ever actually existed. Not even the original legends for the swords commonly attributed to him agreed on his existence. Several of the swords had multiple origin stories, only one of which had attributed the creation to Wayland. Wait, Judson had said sword as in singular. Not plural. That didn’t make sense.

 

“Wait, which one are we talking about: Almace?” no reaction, “Curtana?” he just kept walking.

 

“Durandal,” he said.

 

“Durandal? Why would you need to find it? The legend, which I’m assuming is true if the sword is a real thing, is that it’s embedded in stone at Rocamoudor. I mean it’s a tourist trap and everything…” She drifted to a stop under Judson’s steady stare. “It’s not the real one is it?”

 

“That’s what we need you to determine.” He stopped suddenly, turning to face her. His steady eyes bored into her. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been with the Library, but it seemed like he knew everything about the place. She hoped one day she would too. She hated not knowing important things. Like what had happened to the last Librarian. She’d asked that first day, in the same spot she stood now actually, when Judson had shown her his portrait. He’d never answered and she didn’t think have much of a chance of getting that question answered today. “The job of the Librarian is not just to care for the artifacts here. You are the only person qualified to locate and retrieve the artifacts still in the world.”

 

“Oh so I’m going to France!” Waverly tried to keep the excitement from her voice, but failed miserably, so that her question became a high pitched squeal. It was embarrassing, but she’d never been out of the country before.

 

 

“Yes. Your flight will leave shortly so we should get you ready.” He then began walking again. Waverly rushed to keep up.

 

“So where are we going then,” she called out. “The exit’s over there.”

 

“To meet your Guardian,” he said as he continued down the hallway, leaving Waverly behind as she stared after him, a puzzled look twisting her face.

 

“Wait… why would I need a guardian?”

 

* * *

 

It felt like she had been waiting for an eternity. Which it wasn’t. It only felt that way. It wasn’t because she was nervous. She had faced situations far more dangerous with a cool head. She was not going to freak out because her Ex was going to walk through that door at any moment. An ex. Not the ex. She had dated other people than Waverly Earp. She took a deep breath to center herself, and not to drown out the little voice reminding her that Waverly may not have been the first, but she was the last. Which was only due to her job. It wasn’t like any of her unit, former unit, had much time for personal lives. And unlike Elle she’d never been a fan of the casual hook up. Which explained it all and why she had no reason to worry. She was a professional. She could handle this.

 

She took another deep breathe, followed by a third. She let the breaths fill her and then spill forth, letting her mind go slack as she focused on the steady movement. Slowly the tension drained from her shoulders. It was a trick the boss had taught all of them. A simple mind-body trick. Calm the body and the mind was forced to calm too. Which was handy for keeping hands and minds steady before an op. And that’s what this was. An op like any other. She’d done protection of assets before, though never solo. She’d had Elle to watch her back.

 

Not for the first time since her conversation the previous night Nicole wondered why this whole thing was set up like this. Why did a librarian need a body guard? Why only the single guard? If the asset was high value enough there should have been a team assigned to the detail. If the asset wasn’t valuable enough or in enough danger to justify a team, why pull someone from the premier counter-terrorism unit in the country? Couldn’t a secret service agent do an adequate job?

 

She’d read the file, what there was of it, backwards and forwards. Some group of religious fanatics calling themselves the Children of the Widows, which judging from their emblems referred to Black Widow Spiders and not wives who had lost their husband, were looking for some ancient relic. Her charge was going to investigate the site long believed to house it, and if it was legitimate they’d retrieve it, if not they’d see if they could find clues to the real thing and go from there. Nicole’s job was to make sure her charge got the relic and got back safely.

 

Once you got past the ridiculous names, the fact that the relic was a supposed Holy Sword, and that she was babysitting Waverly Earp, the mission itself didn’t seem too atypical. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been sent out to locate and retrieve an item of value before terrorists could grab it. While her old team was primarily domestic oriented, there were a few times that because of the commander’s connections they’d be chosen to take care of a foreign op. Terrorists had turned to stealing and selling relics on the black market to fund their activities. Given her team’s familiarity and expertise they’d been seen as the best option for disrupting the pipeline at its source, or at the very least extracting the relic first. Granted, the relics she’d retrieved where generally paintings or religious symbols and not ancient weapons that were probably just rusted pieces of metal at this point, but whatever.

 

As she waited for Judson to return with Waverly, Nicole busied herself looking around. She could see why this place needed the extreme security she’d had to pass through to enter. Even the ornamental lions which adorned the banisters of the stairs leading away from the elevator she’d rode down in were solid gold. And even those detailed carvings paled in comparison to the golden box sitting on display nearby.

 

Nicole wasn’t particularly religious, but even she knew what the Ark of the Covenant was. It seemed like someone fairly wealthy had once decided to make their own, given what was resting in front of her. The designs on the box were very simple, and yet were excellently carved. The box shimmered with a soft golden glow in the light of the exhibit hall. She leaned forward to get a closer look, and maybe feel the lovely metal, when she heard the voices and she snapped back to attention.

 

“… don’t understand why I need a bodyguard if all I’m doing is going to find an artifact sitting in a rock wall in France. What aren’t yo--”

 

Waverly’s voice cut off suddenly as she and Judson rounded a corner and came into view. Nicole’s traitorous eyes immediately locked onto Waverly’s and a small knot that still rested in her chest tightened. Her lips slid into a smirk and her weight shifted to rest all in one leg, giving her trademark swagger as old barriers slid into place. Knot or no knot; breathless or not she was gonna do this.

 

She wasn’t some rookie anymore, getting tongue tied over a pretty girl. She wasn’t going to let Waverly know she still had this effect on her. She could be strong. It was easier said then done though, as a look Nicole couldn’t quite place flashed across the other woman’s face. It didn’t last long enough for Nicole to even try and pretend to know what it meant. She recognized the look that replaced it though. She’d seen it before, when Doc or Wynonna had crossed Waverly. There was a hard fire flickering behind the brunette’s eyes.

 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Nicole drawled, cutting in before Waverly got into whatever diatribe she had planned. It was bad enough she was discovering that the sight of Waverly could still effect her so much. She couldn’t deal with hearing how little Waverly wanted to see her.

 

She should have known that this was one runaway train she couldn’t hope to divert. All she could do was stare straight ahead and brace herself for what was to come.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Waverly loved the English language. There were so many interesting words. So many different possible constructions to achieve a desired meaning. It’s why she earned a few of her degrees in literature and linguistics, just so she could study it a bit deeper. Then there were days like today, when words failed her and she was left grasping for a suitable phrase and dear lord did she wish she could use one of the fairly straight forward languages under her belt that had no nuance, no hidden meanings, so that she could convey just exactly how she felt.

 

Though seeing that still familiar smirk and swagger awaiting her in a place she’d though of as safe and a new beginning, did leave the question of exactly how she felt. Which was the problem with thinking in English. She was limited to its words and there wasn’t one that quite captured it. Fear, hot and wet, pushing on her chest and making her desperate to take in large gaps of air as a last ditch attempt to relieve the pressure that was building in her chest, was there. But so was a raw, red rage that narrowed her vision, coloured her thoughts, and twisted her features into a menacing scowl as a physical reaction to the sensation of being trapped in a vice gripped her, her every muscle straining without being allowed o move as a desperate need to lash out gripped her. Her body screamed with the competing urges to run away and to dart forward to attack.

 

Waverly was spared from choosing one and the ultimate fallout it would cause by one of her new allies. While she was lost in thought, eyes locked with those belonging to the last person she ever wanted to see again, Piper entered the entry room and took the redhead’s presence as an opportunity to showcase its new song. By the time Waverly was stuck between flinging herself towards the door or Nicole, the flying pipes had reached the familiar chorus of the song. Familiar enough that Nicole clearly recognized it. A red eyebrow raised up and that suggestive grin of hers resurfaced. The one that set Waverly’s blood boiling, and did things to other parts of her that she wouldn’t think of just then. The one that had made her feel wanted. But it had been a lie. Its owner had left just like everyone else. Nothing ever stayed. The reminder was like the bucket of cold water she’d used to wake Wynonna from alcohol induced stupors when they’d first started living together. The icy shock of it broke her free from the hot need of her rage, fear… and other things. She took a deep breath, embarrassment colouring her cheeks as she gave a short command to Piper, that “it wasn’t the time for that” and to “play anything else for the love of G-d”.

 

She realized her mistake a moment later. Even as Nicole continued to smirk at her and act as if the stupid coincidence was the background music from some movie and Waverly would leap into her arms to be used up and tossed away again, and a part of Waverly might have been okay with that, she was about to learn she should have chosen her words more carefully.

 

Seizing on the opportunity, she’d given him Piper began to play his forbidden song, soaring out of reach while he happily played the upbeat melody she’d become so sick of. The ridiculously bouncy tune, that he’d clearly learned from watching some B action movie on tv, once again reached her ears, it was the last straw. Before she could even think to stop herself, she spun away from Nicole and vented her feelings at the happily flying pipes.

 

“Oh come on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, left a comment or given me a Kudos for this. I haven't written in years and it's really great to see such positive feedback on my first attempt back. I really love seeing what you thought.


	4. Chapter 4: Leaving on  Jet Plane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the comments. I really do appreciate them. After reading a few I decided to to spend a little time on exposition and establishing what is going on. Hopefully it's still enjoyable.

Chapter 4: Leaving on a Jet Plane

 

 

A car door swung open on the left and Nicole reacted, lightly tapping the break to break the car’s rhythm and quickly moved her foot back to the gas, prepared to use the car as a battering ram against a potential attacker. When none appeared she let the car keep moving forward. As they approached a red light her eyes moved through the space in front of them, noting the position of the pedestrians and other cars on the road. There was a red Corolla that had followed them when they made the last turn. Nicole took note of it and readied herself to change lanes. When the light changed she pressed the gas hard, and jerked the wheel to the right, moving smoothly in front of the car to her right, and watched to see how the red Corolla reacted. When it reached the intersection, it turned left and Nicole’s focus moved on to the next potential threat.

 

She was not being ridiculous, despite her passenger’s muttering to the contrary with each maneuver she undertook. She had a job to do. Namely protect her asset, even if said asset was being a pain in the ass. And a vehicle in movement to a known destination was one of the best times to pick off a target. The mobile nature of the vehicle made most defensive measures useless and the shifting geography made it impossible to adequately close off all potential avenues of attack. Not to mention that the ridiculous amount of stimuli on the average roadway would give any attacker a vital few seconds of advantage while a target tried to locate the source of the danger. So even though the chances that they were being targeted at this point were pretty low, given the secret nature of the Library, she doubted the threat were aware of them yet, she still had to be ready. Which meant using every evasive driving trick that had been drilled into her over the years.

 

Though, if she was being honest, it was possible, just possible though, that she was using the familiar routine of evasive driving to distract herself from the awkward silence which filled the car. They hadn’t said much since the Library. There really wasn’t much to say. But like some much of the last week, Nicole was wrong and Waverly’s voice broke the silence.

 

“So this is the job you left Purgatory for?”

 

That wasn’t right. She hadn’t left for the job. It was the other way around. She’d taken the job because she’d needed to leave Purgatory. Leave behind the ashes that had become her life and try and carve out something new. Which wasn’t the whole truth. She hadn’t really been seeking something new. She’d been running, that was the bitter truth she’d come to realize over the years. Running from any possible reminders of a time when she’d been happy, when she’d felt whole. It was easier to not have to look at Waverly each day, to remember a time when the feisty brunette had been more to her than just another grim reminder that she wasn’t wanted, that she would never be wanted. She’d always be just…

 

“You are not giving me the silent treatment! That is so immature,” Waverly huffed and Nicole had to bite back the thought that so was pouting before it spilled from her lips. She tried to clear her head from the memories by focusing on the skills she’d earned at the job that had rescued her from Purgatory.

 

“I’m doing no such thing. I’m trying to keep you safe,” she said. The words sounded harsh, even to her ears. It wasn’t what she intended. This was awful enough without her making it worse. Time to offer an olive branch. “And no. I was working counter-terrorism with a DHS unit until yesterday.”

 

The glare that she saw reflecting from the passenger’s seat; where honestly Waverly shouldn’t have been sitting, but Nicole had lost that fight; told her that the damage had already been done. A small trill ran through her at the brief sight she’d caught. Waverly was sitting there with that same petulant look she’d worn so many times back then, her arms crossed and lips puckered. It was almost as if they’d been thrust back to when they were first dating and Waverly was confronting a fleeing Doc. Nicole crushed the feeling before she could get her hopes up. That was why she’d left in the first place and dammit if she was going to let all of those years be a waste. She wasn’t going to try and find chances that weren’t there. Not anymore.

 

“Oh so now you can tell me what you were doing. What did they de-classify it all of a sudden?” Waverly bit back.

 

Nicole couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled up. She doubted anything she’d done since leaving Purgatory would be declassified in their lifetime. The public didn’t need to know about the attacks they’d averted or how close calls some of those calls were anymore than they needed to know about Revenants or the other weird shit that happened in Waverly’s home town. However, her laugh had the unfortunate side effect of causing Waverly’s face to grow more stern as she waited for a response. But the laugh had done its job and Nicole’s head had cleared from thoughts of the past. She risked an actual grin and responded to Waverly.

 

“Hardly. But your security clearance has gone up a lot since then.”

 

“Funny,” the brunette said as she glared forward. Nicole had almost forgotten how intimidating an annoyed Waverly could be. It was almost like her short stature meant all the rage a normal sized person who’d lived her life had was compressed to fit inside her. And contents under pressure might explode. Not that Nicole would ever risk telling the brunette that. She simply opted to keep a smirk plastered on her face and wait out the wrath of hurricane Waverly. Assuming she hadn’t changed too much, soon enough she’d get distracted.

 

Sure enough, as the brunette searched her face and came to the eventual conclusion that Nicole wasn’t in fact joking, the glare melted away and was replaced with a look of radiant joy that caused Nicole’s heart to twinge involuntarily as her mind flashed back to another time. A time when her simple presence could invoke that look, rather than the glares, thick silences, and acerbic words that had come to replace it. Thankfully Waverly’s antics pulled her free before she could become too lost in her thoughts of the last times they’d been in the same place.

 

“Wait I have security clearance?! Judson didn’t say I got security clearance! That is awesome. How high is it?”

 

Nicole shrugged. “Pretty damn high. I was essentially above Top Secret and you’re higher than me.”

 

“I thought Top Secret was the highest. It goes Confidential, Secret, Top Secret.”

 

“Right. But Top Secret can be furthered compartmentalized, so only people on a particular list can get access.”

 

“Am I on your list?”

 

“Maybe. Judson seemed to know about my unit. Though only some of what we did was compartmentalized, so maybe he only knew the general Top Secret stuff. And I certainly wasn’t on the Library’s list. First I heard about it was last night.”

 

“Oh, so you didn’t volunteer for the job or anything?”

 

If Nicole didn’t know any better, she’d almost think that Waverly sounded disappointed, as if she wanted Nicole to have sought her out. She was tempted to look, to see if maybe she could see the truth in Waverly’s eyes. But no, she wasn’t going down that road again. She spent enough time convincing herself that there were signs that Waverly cared, that there was a chance. These years apart wouldn’t have changed the fact that she didn’t. If anything maybe her distaste had faded and it would be even easier for Nicole to convince herself of what she wanted to be true. G-d she was pathetic. She should have taken Elle’s advice and found someone, anyone else. Instead she’d told herself she wouldn’t until she found the right person. All she’d done was left a hole in her life that Waverly was in danger of sliding right back into. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t survive a second time of not being good enough, of having her feelings thrown back in her face. No, best to focus on keeping the conversation civil, getting the job done and hoping that this was just a temporary assignment.

 

“Not sure how you’d volunteer for a detail like this. But no, I liked what I was doing.”

 

“Oh,” Waverly said. And Nicole was sure she could hear the disappointment this time. The silence stretched between them as she passed a stop light, and then another. It wasn’t till she began to turn onto the highway that Waverly’s voice shattered the silence.

 

“What where you doing? At your job,” Waverly said, her voice quiet and nervous. “Y’know since I have clearance and all.” Nicole stays silent while she gets them off the ramp and onto the highway proper. She should have remained focused on the task at hand while she was doing so, instead she was considering her next words. Waverly was offering her an olive branch. Something safe to talk about. She’d be an idiot not to take it.

 

“Some of it’s compartmentalized,” Nicole said, and out of the corner of her eye saw Waverly slouch a little, her shoulders falling. “But yeah, I can tell you the rest,” she finished with a sigh. “What do you wanna know?”

 

“Everything? I mean, what does a DHS counter-terrorism unit even do?”

 

“In some ways it was a lot like black badge just with a different geographic focus and target. Don’t raise your eyebrow at me, Miss Earp.”

 

“What I’m supposed to believe that it’s like hunting undead monsters.”

 

“Not that part. But the tasks were similar,” Nicole replied. “We assembled information, studied it to get a picture of our targets and tried to figure out how best to take them out. Otherwise each op was different. Sometimes it was a straight tactical strike, sorta like being with the military. We’d go in hot to a location and eliminate a known threat.

 

“And sometimes it was more like being a cop. There wasn’t always much to go on, sometimes all we had was a single clue or just a threat that seemed credible. So we’d have to investigate. We’d case scenes, pour over intelligence, determine suspects, piece together whatever we could of their plans and cut them short.”

 

“Sounds dangerous.”

 

“It could be. Though the worst was when we had to go undercover to get information.”

 

“You went undercover? Why was it so bad?”

 

“Yeah. And it’s because you’re dealing with scum on their own turf with almost no safety net. All those movies and shows we used to watch were the criminals worked together, well real life’s a bit different. There’s no trust and the only thing that keeps those relationships running is greed and the threat of violence. But if you want to find the next shipment of weapons, the contraband, or the location of the trafficking victims they were going to use to finance their activities those were the people you had to interact with.”

 

“How many people were in your squad?”

 

“That part’s compartmentalized. Helps keep everyone safe if we limit the knowledge of the makeup and number of the squad.”

 

“Oh. But you always work together then? Must be interesting being part of a big group.”

 

“Sometimes we did. We’d subdivide based on the mission. Most of the time I was working with the larger group or a single partner.”

“Same person each time?”

 

“Yeah. We worked well together.”

 

“How’d they take the news? Of you leaving the unit.”

 

“Don’t know. Wasn’t given a chance to say goodbye. Hell I only have my old boss’s word that she’s okay.” The bitterness that accompanied her words surprised even her. A quick glance at Waverly, told her the other girl had taken the tone personally. Which wasn’t fair to her. Nicole wasn’t happy about how she’d had to leave, but that wasn’t Waverly’s fault. “We’d just finished an op. It didn’t end well. We broke up the ring and took out the cell, but she was hurt pretty bad. I’d barely walked through my front door after leaving her at the hospital when my boss came in and gave me this assignment.”

 

“Oh.” The silence returned, lingering as they passed exit after exit, coming closer and closer to the airport. This time it was Nicole who broke the silence.

 

“Turnabout’s fair play right,” Nicole asked. At Waverly’s nod, she continued. “The Library. What is it? I mean I figure that the stuff is valuable and we don’t want it being sold to fund terror, but then I saw a flying sword and yeah. Explain, please.”

 

“I thought you said they gave you a file. It didn’t explain?”

 

“Not really. It just had the details for this mission. Escort you, keep you safe from some terrorist cult, retrieve ancient artifact. There wasn’t anything in it about flying swords or self playing sets of pipes with wings.”

 

“Oh. Well I guess to begin with Magic’s real.”

 

“I think that the outlaws that your ancestor killed and who have returned from the dead as demons established that fact pretty well.”

 

“Okay, yeah but that barely counts. I’m talking about all the old stories and movies being real. Like, okay you were in the entryway you saw the exhibits.”

 

“What the replica of the Ark of the Covenant and the old stone? Look I’ll give you the first one was really impressive. Not really sure why you’ve got some plain old stone there though. Seems out of place.”

 

“First, it’s not a replica. Second, don’t make fun of Excalibur’s bed. He doesn’t like it when people do that.”

 

Now it was Nicole’s turn to search Waverly’s face for the truth. She waited for the smaller woman to start smirking, or maybe giggle. But she didn’t. She just stared back, arms crossed and a disgruntled pout marring her features. She looked like Nicole had just insulted her puppy.

 

“Wait. The flying sword… that wasn’t- was it?”

 

“Excalibur. Yes, keep up,” Waverly said, and Nicole would have sworn she could hear a smirk in the other woman’s voice.

 

“But that’s… that’s not possible Waverly. That’s a myth, a legend-“

 

“Like demons and a magic gun that can send the evil undead demon outlaws you were so blasé about back to hell?”

 

Nicole’s shoulders tensed and her hands tightened around the wheel at Waverly’s little dig. The words themselves were nothing, but the mocking tone accompanying them brought forth memories she thought she’d left behind. Of the casual disdain that had come at the end of their relationship. Of the arguments and the cutting remarks that followed. Of knowing that where there was once love only obligation and resentment remained.

 

It was the reminder she’d needed. This way she wouldn’t fall into the trap of remembering the old times with rose coloured glasses. Of setting herself up to be rejected again because she’d misinterpreted the situation. In the short time she’d been silent Waverly had apparently decided to continue.

 

“So in addition to Excalibur and the Ark of the Covenant, there’s tons more artifacts in the Library. We even have a talking horse, though he’s a bit of a perv. Pretty much every old legend had at least a grain of truth to it.” Waverly stopped for a breath, and Nicole studiously avoided eye contact during the pause. “And magic’s pretty dangerous. Like touch the Ark and you get blasted with fifty thousand volts. There’s this one artifact, the Spear of Destiny that pretty much makes you invincible. In the wrong hands bad news bears.

 

“So that’s why there’s the library. It collects and stores magic relics and artifacts to keep them out of the wrong hands. And apparently we also have to go out and get them, which is a new thing I learned today.”

 

“So basically it’s a vault and we’re looking for the next thing that goes in it. Got it. So what makes this old sword so dangerous?”

 

“Durandal? Well the stories a bit muddled but, well supposedly it’s one of the swords made by Wayland the Smith.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Greatest magic sword maker of all time. Anyway, Durandal could supposedly cut through anything.”

 

“What like armor and other swords? Not sure why that’s an issue these days.”

 

“It could shatter mountains. According to legend Roland used it to create a ravine 40 meters wide and 100 meters deep.”

 

“Oh, so a cult of terrorists getting it…”

 

“Would be really bad.”

 

Great, Nicole thought. So not only did she need to keep her ex with no field experience safe, but if they failed to bring back this sword then some whackjob could use it to level entire cities. No pressure or anything. This time, Nicole welcomed the silence that fell over them as they made their way to the airport.

 

* * *

 

 

Waverly wasn’t generally the type to blame others. She preferred to be proactive, to get things done. She was a planner, and plans left little room for blame. But this, this whole mess? It was all Wynonna’s fault. And the most ridiculous part was that she couldn’t even call her sister to yell at her. Well she could, but she couldn’t give any details which would make her look like a crazy person.

 

She should have just stayed in Purgatory, in her nice comfy room with her fancy laptop and continued taking online courses and writing articles when she felt like it. Nothing good came from leaving the homestead. Outside of the homestead there were revenants, ex girl-friends and apparently psycho cults she had to be protected from. Okay there was also flying swords and amazing books that she’d thought lost to the ages but that was beside the point. The point was that the homestead was the only place where she was safe. The only place she wouldn’t be reminded of how little she was wanted.

 

She should have known that by now. She should never have left. And it’s not like she really needed the money. Bobo had made sure of that. For whatever sick twisted reason he’d named Waverly his heir. Well actually he’d originally named Willa, but there was apparently a clause that if she predeceased him it all went to Waverly. And there was a lot of all. Turns out if you were an amoral unaging jackass who was around on and off for hundreds of years you could amass quite the fortune. And it meant Waverly didn’t have to worry, could just spend her life doing what she wanted.

 

Which was why her being here, in this seat that was too tiny for even her, and trapped inches away from the last person she had wanted to see, was all Wynonna’s fault. Without her sister’s insistent pushing that Waverly had to get out into the world she’d be nice and safe in the home where… okay so if she thought about it really except for the magical protection it had against revenants and the fact that she and Wynonna had reconnected there, the homestead really didn’t have much going for it. Pretty much every significant trauma in her life was tied to that place. Like when Willa used to torture her when they were little, and when she came back into their lives as well. It was where her sister had accidently shot her father. And where she had met Bobo, who was the worst imaginary friend ever on account of being real and a giant shithead, in addition to being evil. And it was where she’d learned Nicole was leaving Purgatory, leaving her.

 

Stealing a quick glance at the red head seated next to her, Waverly had to wonder if maybe this was fate. A second chance. This time she could be better. She could do it right and be… She forced the thoughts out of her head. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself.

 

She was such a weak, pathetic sap. Nicole had left her, abandoned her just like everyone else she’d cared about had. She’d spent years with that fact. That she’d finally found someone incredible and she’d left. And when she had, Waverly had been so broken that she’d never quite put the pieces back together. In her darker moments she sometimes wondered whether it was worth leaving Champ.

 

Sure Champ Hardy hadn’t been the best boyfriend. He was: an idiot, and that was being polite; a raging homophobe with rage issues, cause there was no way that little outburst was just Bobo’s poisoned champagne as Chrissy had had twice as much and only gone batshit significantly later; and a lazy shit with not a single aspiration to his name. But he’d been willing to stay. Which was more than anyone else, other than Gus, had ever done. And she’d tossed that away because she thought she’d found better. Which served her right for believing it was possible she could have more, that she deserved more. But she could own that, accept her mistake and learn from it.

 

Only she hadn’t. Because here she was searching for any little sign that could make it okay, that could explain away the hurt and betrayal she still felt. But that was stupid. She was stupid. Nicole hadn’t been forced to leave. She’d chosen to. And she hadn’t chosen to come back into her life. No, that she’d had to be forced into. Left to her own devices Nicole would still be with her unit, a group of people Waverly had never met and knew nothing about, but couldn’t help starting to resent.

 

And now she was in shoved into the coach section of a plane on her way to France, which she should have been excited about. Except, she had this giant reminder of how she wasn’t good enough sitting right next to her. And she had no luggage, because they’d had to leave right away. And unlike miss super secret agent, she hadn’t packed a ‘go bag’ or whatever ridiculous name applied to the bag of clothes and personal items that Nicole apparently kept with her at all times.

 

Which meant that while she was stuck in the same outfit for however long, which was already starting to be rumpled, Nicole got to have more than one set of damn clothes. So whenever they reached their stupid hotel, Nicole could shower and change and brush her teeth and continue looking fabulous, while Waverly was stuck looking like a schlub. Which really wasn’t fair, because she already had a disadvantage in outshining her ex. Because, apparently being a secret agent worked for Nicole because she’d gotten even hotter over the years. Waverly had been kinda hoping the opposite would be true, but yeah no such luck. While Waverly was no slouch, Nicole had clearly won that part of the breakup. Which made sitting next to her even harder.

 

Thankfully Waverly had had just enough time to grab a few items before Judson and Charlene had rushed them out of the library. Namely, original copies of the books containing the stories of Durandal. If she cross referenced them against each other, and against her knowledge of literature of the time, she may be able to see if there was some clue buried there that would make the mission easier. Which meant she could spend the time reading and not staring at the redhead.

 

* * *

 

Try as she might Nicole couldn’t make herself comfortable. It wasn’t the seat itself. She’d been forced to sit in, and sleep in, far worse. The coach sets were a lot better than the she was forced to ride in a military transports. She’d only barely managed to retain her lunch the first time she’d ridden in one. Elle had been less lucky, and it hadn’t even been her first time.

 

But Nicole would happily endure all of that again to not be here, in this moment. But she was. She was trapped in a small space with the sexiest woman she’d ever known only inches from her. The flight was mostly empty, and their close proximity along with the dimmed lights meant there would have been no one to see stolen kisses and forbidden touches. But the time when those things were a not just a possibility but a heavenly certainty was long since passed. Instead of the blissful dream it should have been, this ride was a nightmare.

 

So she was almost grateful that work was going to intervene. Even as she’d sat there, stewing over her proximity to Waverly and trying not to let the brunette’s obvious attempts to pretend she wasn’t there irritate her, she’d been watching her fellow passengers. Her vigilance had paid off a few hours ago when a tall, swarthy man had paid an unusual amount of attention to the books that had been spread out on Waverly’s lap. The spacing of his trips by them, to presumably use the restroom, had further alerted her. They were spread out just enough so that a casual observer wouldn’t think twice. But they were frequent enough to allow him to establish the information necessary for an attack. She’d noted the same things he had. The space of the aisles, the fact that a man who was likely the flight marshal was only a few rows back, the spacing of any eyewitnesses.

 

Now that there were several hours into the flight he would be ready to make his move. He’d had enough time to assess and the cabin lights had been dimmed long enough that most of the passengers were asleep. Those few that were awake were easily discernable by their overhead lights. The lack of shuffling papers beside her told her Waverly no longer needed the light blazing over her head. Deciding it was time to force the issue, Nicole reached up and turned the other woman’s light off. Then careful to make her movements noticeable, but not to exaggerated she rose and entered into the isle. She walked slowly and carefully down the rows, eyes darting back and forth. She hadn’t been able to clock where he was sitting.

 

She had hoped that he’d be easily visible, but she was almost to the latrines and she still hadn’t seen him. Her plan had been to pass him, make him think Waverly was vulnerable and then remove him from play while he made his move. Slightly risky, especially if he had help, but safer than letting him choose his moment.

 

The stifled breath she just caught despite the humming of the plane, when she reached the latrine doors, told her she’d been mistaken. She’d been set up. A footfall behind her was clear enough to be heard. A trap. She was supposed to turn to face his accomplice and leave herself open. A knife or a syringe would follow. Given that they were looking to remove her from play quietly she suspected the latter. Otherwise they would have confronted her in the aisle itself where she had less room to maneuver and their numbers would be more useful.

 

She smiled. This she could work with. She didn’t turn, though she was tempted to, just to see how good they really were. If she’d had backup she’d have done so. But it was just her, no safety net and no second line of defense for Waverly if she fucked this up. So quick and clean it was.

 

When the goon behind her had drawn close enough she struck. She stomped down and back, colliding with his shin with all the force she could muster. It wasn’t enough to shatter the bone, but it did cause him to flinch. She turned towards him quickly, lashing out as she did so. The back of her right fist collided with his skull, sending him stumbling into the other lavatory’s doors. Her left hand snaked out to grab the wrist of swarthy man she’d seen earlier. He’d tried to use the distraction of his partner to inject her with a syringe sloshing full of some kind of nasty chemical. Grunting he tried to force the needle forward but it was futile. She was stronger and she had the leverage. She twisted quickly and felt the bones break. As his mouth dropped to utter forth a scream she used her free hand to throw a haymaker with all of her strength. It collided with is jaw, knocking him off his feet. With both of her assailants down she bent quickly to retrieve the syringe.

 

As she rose with it grasped firmly in hand she realized she’d been a touch overconfident. The first assailant was still functional. His fist colliding with the small of her back testified to that. She tried to spin even as she fell forward and pain forced the breath from her chest. She was too off balance for the maneuver and ended up slamming her back into the wall of the lavatory. He seized the opportunity she’d given him, thick hands encircling her throat. This time leverage was against her. His grip was too firm to break easily and she didn’t have enough air left in her lungs to try and fight him head on. He slammed her head back against the bulkhead and her vision swam. Clutching the needle even tighter, she slammed it into his neck, depressing the plunger as the needle tip sank into his flesh. In a moment of panic one of his hands left her throat to reach to remove the needle. She seized the opportunity and used her other arm to break his grip, before slamming her head forward into his smug face.

 

He collapsed into a heap. As she sucked in greedy breaths of air she couldn’t help but be amazed that no one had noticed the altercation. But apparently the buzz of the airplane had concealed the sounds and the dim lights and the fact that they were in the back of the plane had concealed the movements. When she had enough air in her lungs she carefully knelt to check his pulse. It was steady enough and he was clearly breathing. It seemed that whatever they’d had in the syringe wasn’t immediately lethal. That was good. She moved to the one unconscious in the small galley beside the bathroom. A quick pat down found the vials they’d used to fill the syringe. She wasn’t a doctor by any stretch of the imagination but she recognized this chemical. She’d used it to knockout targets so they could be detained for later questioning. And she was lucky. There was enough in the vial for a second dose. Removing the needle from the goon it was currently embedded in she filled it again and administered it into the other assailant.

 

She then set about manhandling them into the last row, which thankfully remained empty. She considered just leaving them sprawled out in the row. Unfortunately she couldn’t afford to have the attendants try and wake them. With more grunting and effort than she would have preferred she sat each of them up so they were leaning against one of the windows in the row and then buckled them in. Hopefully no one would find them till after the flight.

 

With the threat dealt with for the moment, she returned to her seat and tried to relax enough to fall asleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also wanted to thank you all for your patience. Work's pretty crazy these days so updates will likely come every other week or perhaps a bit longer. But I haven't forgotten this fic.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in years and then this passed into my head and I just couldn't get rid of it. Can't promise when updates will come.


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